


Prompt for July 2018

by missbibliophile



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 05:44:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15478905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbibliophile/pseuds/missbibliophile
Summary: A submission for a writing prompt for the month of July in the year 2018.





	Prompt for July 2018

**Author's Note:**

> This is a submission for a writing prompt. We were given a single sentence to start off with, and this is what I continued. It is not edited, it is not revised, and it is intentionally incomplete.

The explosion that lit the night sky reflected in the water below. A thundering roar followed soon after. Loud whistling smoothly crescendoed from the deck of a dark object on the water’s surface. High in the air, another explosion lit the night sky. Vibrantly painted light illuminated the faces of buildings. The sounds of celebration rose high and stretched far beyond the main thoroughfare circling the hub of life.

It draws the curious mass of neighbors and strangers together toward the center of the attraction. Five people wide, the weathered thoroughfare provided easy travel to the world leading outside the fiefdom and deeper into its heart. A steady pace of the captivated mass proved dangerous for those who could not hold their own against a gentle shove or violent prod. Every person who could avoid it, stayed to the outside of the mass. This left them wide open for teasing and mischief managed by costumed figures.

Exaggerated shapes splashed in the same vibrant colors exploding in the sky hid the faces of the aged, the passionate, and the quiet. Wide masks wildly exaggerating bird’s wings, malformed to abstract expressions of feeling. Some masks were created with three or four corners, and others with no describable shape at all from which an eye or pair of lips were made visible. One of the mass was distracted by the sound of twirling over a curved roof. Their diverted attention was brought back into focus when a starved hand grabbed hold of their arm.

Their reaction barely reached above the din and over several heads away.

“Remember your beads.” A woman past her prime fretted over an unruly strand of hair on the head of a younger woman.

“I told you,” she worked out all the work the woman put in with a quick head shake once backs were turned, “that I have no desire of going. It’s disturbing.”

An identical young woman came through the doorway of the nearest building. She carried herself taller than the other: shoulders back, chest out, a gait taught for attraction. “They should’ve picked you as a participant.” Her remark was answered with a was of mud launched toward her. It fell short, earning a skeptical expression.

“Shut up.”

“You didn't mean that!”

The other two spoke over each other. She shook her head and continued to approach her twin. Each bead hanging around her neck rattled. Different shapes and colors, and all made by hand. She tossed her twin similar strands of beads. “I want to go before we miss the ritual.”

Both gave their good-bye to the older woman before getting lost among the mass. They were joined by three others, unmasked and decorated with beads and paint. With each passing minute travelling inside the mass, the explosions of light and sound became erratic and intense. One of the twins twisted her long hair back into a loose hold. The other adjusted how the beads rested upon her chest.

“Tula,” one of the strangers spoke up. He had to tilt his head upward to look directly in the twins’ eyes. The twin with her hair pulled back addressed him with a mumble. “This isn’t your first time going to festival, is it?”

Tula picked at the long dried grass reeds pleated around her waist. “No.”

“I saw her last year, Barnaul,” answered a petite girl. She walked close enough to the third stranger that no wind could possibly squeeze between them. “I think that year the sisters dressed in plain cloth.”

Tula stared ahead at the end of the mass where the lights and noise were brightest. She remembered the celebration last year. Caked heavily in the aroma of spices and weighed down by scratching fabric. The only contrast being the same beads which graced her neck now. She glanced to her sister, Tyna, and bit her lip to stop herself from saying something. The twins and their family had been relocated into the fief four seasons ago. Their first week centered around the celebration and the build up to its final day. A final day of fireworks, revelry, abandon, and death.


End file.
